


The difference of the sea and mountains

by Rogercat



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aunts & Uncles, Childhood, Cousins, F/M, Families of Choice, First Age, Gen, House of Fingolfin, Isle of balar, Memories, Uncle-Nephew Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 05:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17822504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogercat/pseuds/Rogercat
Summary: Maeglin and Gil-galad spend some time together at the beach, talking of life





	The difference of the sea and mountains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lidoshka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidoshka/gifts).



> This is a sequel to my other story Paying the Iron Price, where Fingon and his cousins figure out a plan to have Maeglin be able to escape from Gondolin and Turgon 
> 
>  
> 
> And a birthday gift for Lidoshka for being a such good friend

Year 475 of the First Age:

 

The Isle of Balar was so different from Gondolin. Here the Elven city was not surrounded by the mountains across a vast valley as protection against enemies, but rather the sea.

 

“Cousin?”

 

It was Gil-galad who recalled Maeglin to the present, where he had been seated on a good rock at the beach.

 

“I have not missed dinner, I hope? Lost myself in memories.”

 

The Elfling, only twenty-five years old and yet already crowned as High King of the Noldor after the death of his father Fingon one year previously, shaked on his head.

 

“No, dinner is not yet for a hour, I only wanted to see where you had gone since you were not in the forge when I looked.

 

At a distance, the two cousins could easily have been mistaken for brothers, for they were enough alike in looks for that. But where Maeglin had the classical Noldorin black hair from his mother Aredhel and the black eyes of his late father Eöl, Gil-galad had inherited a more rare dark brown hair colour from his mother Rilel, the Queen Dowager and official Regent for her son until that he would come of age.

 

“Are you still sad over that the first anniversary of your father's death was yesterday?” Maeglin asked as Gil-galad said down in the soft sand.

 

“A little. I still expect him to return home sometimes.”

 

Fingon had died last year, in a orc raid aiming to attack the Havens of Sirion, the other refugee camp for the Elves and Men seeking safely from Morgoth. Pretty the irony, in how close Fingon had been to dying in Nirnaeth Arnoediad and only survived thanks to being protected by some of the Lords of Gondolin. However, as Turgon had been told, Maeglin had gone missing in action during the battle and his fate unknown whatever he had been killed or taken captive to become yet another of many slaves in Angband. In reality, however, the third-born Fëanorian Celegorm had knocked Maeglin out during the battle and hid him among the wounded soldiers, because Fingon had not liked how defensive his unknown sister-son was among his brother.

 

“Two years might seem a very short time to be with a uncle I am far more comfortable around, but it was still something I treasure. A welcoming aunt and cousin helped, as well.”

 

Even now, with Fingon dead since a year back, Maeglin still felt the massive difference between his two maternal uncles; Turgon had been reserved and watchful about his own feelings, always surrounded by a shadow of his grief over losing his beloved wife Elenwë and the far from well-hidden disapproval about Maeglin's parents, because for Turgon Eöl had came off as a uncivilized Elf who had tricked his sister into a socially unacceptable marriage. In contrast, Fingon had been horrified to learn about that his brother had ordered the execution of their own brother-in-law without a trial, and basically made their sister-son a orphan the very day after that Aredhel had passed away. His worries had proven true when Maeglin had confessed to not feeling safe in the hidden city of Gondolin, how it had became the gilded cage Aredhel had tried to escape once in the past before meeting her husband.

 

“Nana once met uncle Turgon and cousin Idril when they still lived in Vinyarmar, back when she just had became a general for grandfather and escorting Ada. She found uncle to be in serious need of a good knock-out on the head with a heavy book to make him stop grieving over aunt Elenwë and blaming our Fëanorian relatives for her death on the Grinding Ice,” Gil-galad spoke in a quiet voice, as the two cousins shared a water skin to drink from.

 

“That would have been a sight to watch. And it is not like lord Maedhros and his brothers could have known that their father would burn the swan ships and leave our grandfather stranded on the Grinding Ice with his followers.”

 

Even now, three years after that Fingon and his Fëanorian cousins contrived to trick Turgon into believing that their shared sister-son most likely was dead or enslaved by the Dark Lord after the battle, Maeglin did not regret doing nothing to reveal that he had been in the healing tent and overheard that argument between his uncles before Turgon had returned to Gondolin with his surviving forces and once again shut off the hidden city from the outside world. No, Maeglin truly was happy to be free from Gondolin, where his parents had died.

 

“If you need any help about ladies of some kind, Nana says that you are welcome to go to her with the problem.”

 

Maeglin knew what his aunt by marriage secretly meant. Fingon may have Gil-galad as his direct heir, but Maeglin was now second-in-line to the Kingship of the Noldor because Turgon had been disowned by their grandfather Fingolfin because his choice of isolate Gondolin made him untrusty to help out in the battles against Morgoth, too unlikely to be useful to those who could have needed his help. And as the older cousin who had came of age several decades ago, Maeglin was the one to face the responsibility to find a possible wife and beget his own heirs so the line of Fingolfin did not die out.

 

“I will most likely need your Nana's help in finding a good wife. Though not this year, I want to wait another year or two before doing any match-making for myself.”

 

“Shall we write a letter and ask our distant cousin Finduilas if she has any good choices among her ladies in Nargothrond? It is not like Lord Maedhros or any his brothers have any ladies-in-waiting for their wives, right?”

 

No, none of the Fëanorians had their wives anymore. Maglor had left his wife behind in Valinor at the start of the Exile, and Curufin was a widower since twenty years back. Doriath was out of question to offer possible brides for a heir to the Noldor crown, Luthien remained the only princess of her realm with no close female relatives and there was no way any of the nobles of Doriath would give up their daughters for the glory of a crown if said daughter risked to become a royal widow like Rilel with a small child to care for.

 

“Already trying to help your cousin choose a wife, dear son?” a female voice called, making Maeglin and Gil-galad look up. It was Rilel who walked towards them, dressed in the practical clothing she preferred since her days of being a general under the command of her future father-in-law, rather than a dress worthy that of a lady married into royalty.

 

“No, aunt, we just happened to start talking about that subject to try and pass time until dinner. It is not like I can avoid the duty of marriage and fatherhood forever.”  

 

She said nothing about Maeglin taking the blame for her son. They were close in their own way, despite the age difference and only learning about each other three short years ago.

 

“Well, come on, both of you. Lord Cirdan and his family is waiting on us and no one wants to miss out a warm meal, right?”

 

Together, the three Noldor Elves returned from the beach as the sun was setting. With a little bit of imagination, they could almost see the golden ribbons of Fingon's famed plaits in the golden light behind their backs.    


End file.
